his cheeks
The tears, and tremors felt in ev'ry limb;
But never saw I changed to terror's hue
_His_ ruddy cheek, no tears wiped _he_ away,
But oft he press'd me to go forth, his suit
With pray'rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt
And his brass-burthen'd spear, and dire revenge 650
Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.
At length, when we had sack'd the lofty town
Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils
He safe embark'd, neither by spear or shaft
Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion's edge,
As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt
Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.
So I; then striding large, the spirit thence
Withdrew of swift AEacides, along
The hoary mead pacing,[52] with joy elate 660
That I had blazon'd bright his son's renown.
The other souls of men by death dismiss'd
Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;
The soul alone I saw standing remote
Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed
That in our public contest for the arms
Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown
Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,
Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.
Disastrous victory! which I could wish 670
Not to have won, since for that armour's sake
The earth hath cover'd Ajax, in his form
And martial deeds superior far to all
The Greecians, Peleus' matchless son except.
I, seeking to appease him, thus began.
O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!
Canst thou remember, even after death,
Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake
Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods
Ordain'd of such dire consequence to Greece, 680
Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn
With grief perpetual, nor the death lament
Of Peleus' son, Achilles, more than thine.
Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore
With bitt'rest hate pursued Achaia's host,
And he ordain'd thy death. Hero! approach,
That thou may'st hear the words with which I seek
To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!
Quell all resentment in thy gen'rous breast!
I spake; nought answer'd he, but sullen join'd 690
His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,
I had prevail'd even on him to speak,
Or had, at least, accosted him again,
But that my bosom teem'd with